


Hey, Brother

by nocturneequuis



Series: Story of Sabo [2]
Category: One Piece
Genre: And the late 700s, Gen, MASSIVE SPOILERS FOR 794, a maybe so fic, in between the lines fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-09-21
Packaged: 2018-04-09 16:23:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4356086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nocturneequuis/pseuds/nocturneequuis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a typical day for Sabo until someone long lost tracks him down. Some things are hard to remember. Some things are never completely forgotten. </p><p>Afterwards nothing is the same. It's always so hard to move on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. There's An Endless Road to Rediscover

**Author's Note:**

> Just in case you missed it, Major spoiler warning for the late 700s and 794 in particular.

Daisies was just a Summer Island on the Grand Line, not important to any of the major players that moved across the world’s stage. Most of the island consisted of lush forest, peppered with a few small towns, one of which had a moderate casino business in the offing, but everyone was more or less honest— at least insofar as Sabo could perceive. 

The only thing about this island which could be of any interest was it’s location. North by North West, about a day’s sail, the next island the log post was Blind Torque. Blind Torque sat right fringes of Marine held territory, though held by a powerful and corrupt base commander who, it was rumored, would do anything to move up in the ranks. 

In the opposite corner, Yabol, a pirate leader of a small but vicious force who was angry at being passed over for Shichibukai for the third time in a row. It was rumored that he had decided to gather territory instead and that Blind Torque was his desired home base out of some need for revenge.  
Nether of them were interested in Daisies, at least not yet. So this was a good place for a few agents to hole up in, watch the fight go down. It was likely that the two groups would shatter each other like broken teeth, but whoever won; by whatever slim a margin, could change the whole shape of this part of the sea. Marine reinforcements could be sent in either way to either kick Yabol out or help the base commander secure his position. But if the Marines just decided to let Blind Torque go, it would open up a small power vacuum that would bring pirates from all around battling for the one to claim what Yabol couldn’t. 

But whatever went down on Blind Torque, it would definitely spread to the peaceful island of Daisies who weren’t strong enough not to get rolled over roughshod by whatever bastard claimed victories. So it was important that this place be protected if they could. After all, what was the point of being a Revolutionary if they couldn’t help those who most needed it? 

Though this battle was probably going to take place a few months from now Sabo had made sure to establish the Revolutionary presence early, so the people would be comfortable and so the Marines would think twice—and any pirates would think three times. Prevention was the best cure after all. But since so much had been set up already, it really only left a few of the finalizing touches. 

Sabo brushed the edge of the wing pen under his lip and peered at the notebook Koala had prepared for him. So far three of seven agents were sequestered in two houses on opposite ends of town, the only ones available at low cost since the revolutionaries tended to rent where they could. That didn’t stop the natives from jacking up the prices—but it was to be expected in uncertain times when you didn’t know if a frantic midnight flight would be in your future.  
Now it was only time to figure out who the other four would be from the dossiers Koala had recommended for him. There were quite a few agents who could use a break on a more or less peaceful island. But it was best not to let anyone go who would get too peaceful. They would need to be able to weigh anchor at a moment’s notice and fight for the inhabitants if need be, so they couldn’t get rusty either. 

Tamer would be good. Badger definitely not. Cipollini was an option. Koala had made sure to circle her name several times, add an exclamation mark and an angry bear face. Only… Sabo could never tell if that meant yes or no in Koala speak, and he usually didn’t find out until she was pulling on his face.  
He touched his cheek reflexively, fingertip brushing against the rough numbed patch of skin under his eye. It was so much a part of him that it barely gave him a moment’s pause. 

He shifted his weight and went back to the book, squinting at the crabbed handwriting in one corner where Koala was trying to tell him something vital in text too small for anyone to read. He had just figured out a bit that went: “Not under any circumstances” when his Den Den puru’d. 

Always when he was in the middle of something. 

Might be important though.

He pulled the Den Den from his coat pocket which immediately took on the put upon expression of Reginald who was always stressed about the eyes. 

“Yeah?” 

“Sabo-san, we might have a situation. A Whitebeard came looking for you." 

A Whitebeard? Why? Did Whitebeard have a vested interest in Blind Torque, too? It was pretty far from his usual territory and Sabo couldn’t see any appeal for him. Though on the other hand, since the Revolutionaries had been in this area for a while now, perhaps the old Yonko wanted to get their attention for some reason or another or discuss some business or politics.

Maybe seeing how strong the chain of command was since Sabo was newly appointed secretary to the Chief of Staff… only a step or two up from becoming one of the strongest voices in the whole Army. That made him grin a little at how far he’d come…but he composed himself quickly so it wouldn’t show in his voice… (As it was probably not that anyway, he told himself. Why would Whitebeard care? It was likely something more sobering.) 

“What do they want?” Sabo asked. 

"I don't know. He just came into the bar here, got some food, asked if you were here and died."

“ _Died_?” 

That _was_ a problem, especially if the guy had been sent to seek out the Army specifically. It wouldn't look good for him to have died in the process and the last thing they needed was Whitebeard on the warpath at them.

"Are you sure?” Sabo said quickly. “Did you check his pulse?" 

“No I—” There was some commotion and Reginald roared: “HE WAS ASLEEP?!” 

Sabo sighed inwardly. Maybe Reginald needed a break, too. But somewhere other than Daisies. He wondered if they had anything that needed looking after in the East Blue. As for the Whitebeard, Sabo wasn’t sure what he wanted but…

“Reggie,” Sabo said patiently. “Just send him up to me. I’m on Marigold Hill.” 

“Yes, sir.” There was a pause and then in a low voice. “But just so you know, some of the citizens said that he’s come by twice asking about you. A few months apart. I’d be careful.” 

“Mm.” 

Sabo hung up the Den Den and put it back in his pocket. So a Whitebeard was looking for him specifically? He couldn’t imagine why. But it didn’t matter. If it was a talk they wanted, Sabo could talk. If it was a fight, if Sabo wasn’t at least a match for one Whitebeard he didn’t deserve to even be on the track to cabin boy. 

As he waited, he flicked through more of the dossiers. Then remembered Koala’s missive and flipped back to work out more of the writing. ‘Do not under any circumstances go to”

Were those footsteps behind him? Running?

“I’m going to kick your ass!” 

Before Sabo could even turn around the Whitebeard slammed full force into his back. Sabo had a fleeting vision of boots locked around his waist before he lost his balance and they both went tumbling down the hill until it was nothing but a blur of grass and uncomfortable rocks. 

The moment he could, he scrambled to his feet, irritated. He was dizzy and his hat had fallen off somewhere, not to mention whatever might have happened to the notebook. If that Whitebeard made him lose his dossiers then— 

A arm looped around his neck, pulling tight and he gagged a little, grabbing at it with his fingers even though it wasn’t really choking and then knuckles ran rough across his head. 

“Moron,” the Whitebeard said. “Why—” 

Sabo flipped him, sucking in fresh air as the Whitebeard landed hard on his back, scattering leaves. He stepped back, absently rubbing a hand over his neck as he pulled his pipe from his back and twirled it into a defensive position. 

“Asshole,” the Whitebeard said, hat covering his face. He lay like that for a moment and Sabo wondered if he’d fallen asleep again but then he rolled to his feet in an easy panther like movement and set the hat on his head. 

Sabo felt as if he’d been stung. But he couldn’t say why. His heartbeat rocketed in his throat—which he still felt the arm around somehow, making him short of breath. 

“Yo,” the Whitebeard said. 

Yo? 

_All of that for just a yo?!_

But Sabo tried to maintain his calm. He didn’t want an altercation with one of these guys if he could avoid it. Even if he had no idea what the hell this man’s problem was. He seemed happy. He was grinning. But for some reason Sabo couldn’t bring himself to look up further— maybe he was actually really ugly or something. Hadn’t one of them been?

In any case, that was neither here nor there. 

“Can I help you?” Sabo said. The grin faded, then tightened again into an expression with a lot more teeth. 

“What the hell kind of question is that?” the guy let out laugh that sounded a little forced. “You know who I am.” 

Did he? Should he? Sabo tried to think. Sweat slid in tickling trails down his neck and he sucked in a soft quiet breath to try to get his breathing back to normal but he still felt starved for it.

No. 

This was ridiculous. 

There was no reason to be this way.

He looked up in the guy’s face. 

Freckles. Dark eyes. 

Did he know him? 

No. 

Yes.

No…

Sort of? 

A wave of nausea went through him but he shook it off.

Oh right. Of course. Sabo knew him. 

“You’re the surprising new second division commander.” Well somewhat new. It hadn’t been more than a year anyway. But…name. What was the name? Sabo couldn’t recall having seen it. It must have been on his wanted poster. Well forget it. Who cared. Sabo set the butt of his pipe on the ground so it wouldn’t look like he was ready for an attack and said: 

“Did you want something?” 

Surely the man hadn’t tracked Sabo down just to let him know about his promotion. The man made a sudden fierce expression and Sabo forced himself not to react to it, but was prepared for an attack from any direction. 

“Come on. It’s me! What the hell is wrong with you, Sabo?!” 

For some reason Sabo was holding the pipe defensively again. He felt like he was becoming unmoored somehow. The edges of his vision were getting fuzzy.  
_That_ was happening. 

He realized it with a start. 

Why _now_? It had been years. He’d promised himself to get past it!

And he damn well would. 

He caught the Whitebeard’s eyes, using it to give himself an anchor and firmly planted the butt of the pipe on the ground again. What was going on? The guy acted like he knew him personally. Perhaps it was a case of mistaken identity. 

“Sorry,” Sabo said, trying to sound pleasant as he held up a hand in apology. “I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else.” 

The man startled himself. Mouth creasing as if realizing his error. 

But then his jaw clenched. 

Oh, damnit. 

_Just go away,_ Sabo thought at him fiercely— because that was happening and he couldn’t stop it. He felt like his insides were shaking, vision going dim. A whine in his ears.

“I know who you are, damnit. And you know me!” 

“I’ve never seen you before!” he snapped. Or thought he snapped. Or maybe it was a child’s voice because it seemed to be but he was engulfed. 

Fire. 

Panic. 

Being trapped. Always being trapped and then the roar. Louder than thunder. Louder than anything he'd ever heard.

That hideous sound that had rattled his teeth 

and fire and water 

and deep deep darkness couldn’t move couldn’t breathe

Why?  
_Why??_

_WHY?!_

_HE HADN’T BEEN DOING ANYTHING!_

_HE HAD JUST WANTED TO BE FREE!_

_WHY WOULD THEY JUST DO THAT TO SOMEONE?!_

_**WHY?!** _

 

A jolt along his arm. Pressure. Sabo came back to himself breathing hard. He was blocking the man’s fist in a dragon claw grip, exerting pressure. They had been fighting. He couldn’t even say for sure who’d attacked first but that had happened. Again. A cold shaken feeling went through him and but somehow he was still grinning. Grinning hard at the stranger. Because it was a fight. It was rage. Rage he could do. He let that funnel through him. Grow sharp and cold.  
But he couldn’t allow himself to destroy this guy. The guy was a Whitebeard and the yonko could be devastating. Just needed something to get him to back off. To go away for good. He glanced at the man and suddenly knew. His grin turned into a smirk as he dipped his head, exerting more pressure on the guy’s fist, almost wanting to feel the bones snap under his fingers. 

“You spelled your name wrong.” 

Something happened. 

A feeling.

Sabo couldn’t be sure what. 

Almost like something had been extinguished in a sudden draft. It was an altogether surreal sensation and he was only half aware when the Whitebeard pulled his hand free—

And wasn’t even able to block that same fist coming for his face. 

Sabo staggered as pain exploded across his jaw and he let the force of the blow turn him away. Back to the guy it was easier. Not that he could see anything as stars bounced around his vision and his legs felt weak and shaky. 

The man didn’t speak though he was still there. 

The forest around them was quiet as if it too was holding its breath. 

Sabo felt like he was falling apart. The rage left him and he was nothing but cold. And so tired. He wanted this to stop. He thought it had. Meanwhile the guy was still there. Watching. Waiting. 

“I don’t know you,” Sabo murmured, raking a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry.” 

“What about Luffy?” the man said in a voice that ached. “Do you remember him?” 

Sabo blinked. 

“Luffy?” That was… Dragon’s son, wasn’t it? He was about to say he knew of him but the man’s voice rocketed through the clearing.

“Luffy is your brother!” 

No… That… wasn’t accurate… but…

The man’s arm came around his neck again, but it wasn’t rough this time. It …almost seemed…like a weird sort of embrace.

“Luffy is your brother,” the man repeated, voice thick. “Remember that at least… or he’ll cry on you.” The last part seemed almost like a joke and Sabo found himself making a weak laugh inspite of not really getting it. Then the arm tightened before letting go completely and Sabo heard him walk away. 

He let him go…and when he was certain the man had gone far enough, leaned against a tree for support. It was fine. He was fine. 

He could handle this. 

He just had to...to breathe. 

Breathe in. 

Breathe out. 

Whatever that was. Whoever. 

It was over now. 

It was done. 

Breathe in. 

Breathe out. 

Slowly his heart rate returned to a normal rhythm but he felt exhausted somehow. Prickly. As if he'd just barely survived a major battle. Though he wasn't sure why that should be. 

His Den Den puru’d nervously. 

Someone wanted him. 

He had things to do. 

Daisies needed to be protected. 

He picked up his hat and tugged it on before answering. 

“I’m fine,” he said immediately. 

“I’m relie—” 

“I think you’ll be fine here. I’ll leave you with the dossiers to check over but I think I know who would work out. I’m heading over to Blind Torque.” He needed to see what the Navy’s evacuation plans for the civilian population were. If there were any to begin with. Which he doubted. 

“But—” 

Sabo hung up and picked up his pipe before trudging up the hill, heading back toward the bay. He could sneak a small skiff into Blind Torque. If he remembered right there were at least two beaches good for landing. But he’d have to make sure not to stand out too much. Oh and now that he was thinking of it…

He retrieved his Den Den Mushi again. 

Koala answered after two purus. 

“Do you know what time it is here?!” she snapped. 

“Not really." And it didn't matter because he didn't think she'd actually been asleep anyway. "We need to make evacuation plans for Blind Torque. Just in case. See what the population density is like there. I’m going to do some advanced scouting.” 

“Oh no you’re not! That’s entirely too risky, Sabo-san! I write you notes so you can read them, you know!!” 

He waved it away. Who cared about risk when it came to getting the job done? Anyway, better to risk his neck than someone else’s. In any case, he wasn’t worried. She would do as he asked even if she was mad at him which was why she was invaluable. 

“By the way, what can you tell me about Luffy.” He asked it before he even knew the words were in his mouth. In fact, it almost seemed as if someone else had spoken. 

“Dragon-san’s son?” Koala said, sounding surprised. “Nothing much. Just that he lives near Fusha with—” 

“Let me know when he starts out,” Sabo said. 

“Starts out? Starts out where? As what?”

That was a good question. Even he wasn’t sure. But starting out and Luffy seemed to go hand in hand for some reason. Maybe because Dragon himself was eager to keep things in motion. 

“I’m not sure. Just let me know.” 

“I swear you’re impossible,” she muttered and he grinned. 

“Thanks, Koala-chan.” 

He could see her red face even now. 

“Don’t call me that!” 

He chuckled and hung up, feeling just a little lighter for some reason. 

Luffy… 

It probably wasn't important to know about him but...

Well, Dragon would want to know anyway, right? So he was a good idea to keep tabs on. 

It came to him that he'd actually seen a picture of the kid once. He closed his eyes to try to remember the details of it but he couldn't remember anything much. Just a little kid with a straw hat... And something else. Some big piece of the puzzle that he was missing. He'd remembered it once...it was important...but why? What had it been?

A grin... Yeah that was it. The kid in the picture had been smiling so widely it had taken over half of his face and forced his eyes closed. The smile of someone who was happy with no effort at all just being... just being what? Existing. Yes. That must be it. 

Well...Sabo was glad he existed, too. It made Dragon happy anyway. And thinking about that big helpless grin made Sabo smile as well. 

Something wet dropped on his cheek, trailing below the rough spot and he wiped it away absently with his glove before picking up his pace.  
There were things to do and Blind Torque waited.

He couldn’t let them down.


	2. The Water's Sweet but Blood is Thicker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The War begins, the War ends, and more than one person is left shattered. How can Sabo deal with his new outlook on life?

Argh, what a pain. Sabo set the wing pen to the side as he flexed his fingers and rolled his head from side to side, trying to work the kinks out of his neck. Spread out over his temporary desk, sea charts upon sea charts. Whitebeard territory, Whitebeard ally and enemy territory, islands within each which would be interesting to the World Government... nothing had happened at Marine Ford yet and it was already a headache.

 

At least the world's larger players were silent, watching and waiting. The calm before the storm. And it would be a hell of a storm. Even Dragon couldn't guess the outcome of this battle. Whitebeard was old and in ill health, but that would make his crew and allies fight all the harder to rescue their captured nakama. On the other side, the strength of Marine Ford was not to be taken lightly. Especially if Sengoku and the fleet admirals would be there... along with the combined strength of the shichibukai.

The only thing that was certain was that, whatever the outcome, the world would be in chaos for a while as powers and alliances shifted this way and that.

It made Sabo anxious as hell, though he couldn't say why. The Army could work well in chaos, slipping in where they shouldn't be, sewing confusion where they needed to... Yet for some reason, Sabo had had a knot in his stomach ever since he'd heard of the execution. It was just another Whitebeard. Only one out of 1600 and stupid enough to get himself caught. Was it because he'd met the guy once?

Well whatever the reason, it was ridiculous and he had work to do. Sabo took a sip of his tea, cringing as he found it cold and went back to his charts. The moment he'd picked up the pen there was a knock on the door... because of course there was

"Yeah," Sabo said. The door swung inward and Hack filled the doorway , the light of the common room beyond squeezing in around him.

"Is there a problem?" he asked, noting the beads of sweat glinting on the fishman's face. Hack cleared his throat.

"I brought you dinner."

"Thanks. Just set it down somewhere." Sabo waved carelessly over his shoulder, trusting Hack to know where to put it so it wouldn't get in Sabo's way. Hack hesitated, coming into the room a bit before saying:

"She told me to sit on you until you ate it."

Sabo sighed. He appreciated Koala looking out for him like this, but she worried too much. He ate just fine. He was just busy.

"Here, set it down, I'll eat," he said, moving some charts to the side. Hack set the tray down and loomed. Sabo reached for the pen, pretty sure he could eat and work at the same time. 

"I will sit on you," Hack said and Sabo let his hand drop lightly on the desk. He was tempted to remind Hack what a bad idea that would be, but he couldn't bully the guy. Maybe he was a little hungry after all. Sabo tried to ignore the sea charts which just needed a little more work, just a few hours tops, and pulled the tray closer. Fresh tea, steaming lightly. A sandwich that looked like it had lettuce in it, slightly wilted, and an orange slice. Sabo took a sip of the tea first, which was good and hot. And then another. And then a third. Slowly. Looking up at Hack and waiting for the Fishman to find something more interesting to do. 

Hack folded his arms. 

Sabo sighed again and inspected his sandwich, gingerly peeling back the top slice of bread. Ah ha. There it was. He picked out the treacherous tomato with his fingertips and set it to the side. He hated those things. They were too juicy to be a vegetable and not near tasty enough to be a fruit. 

“It’s good for you.” 

Sabo stuck out his tongue and Hack looked on disapprovingly. Well Sabo couldn’t see it clearly, but knew the Fishman’s mood from experience. Without the tomato, though, the sandwich wasn’t bad. There was some kind of meat in it that he couldn’t identify but tasted just a bit gamey, which he liked. There was something almost nostalgic about fresh caught meat. 

"Any muffment yeft?" he said, watching the fishman’s shadowed face take on a strained quality. 

"Not yet," Hack said, voice strained. "It's practically nightfall. The execution isn’t until tomorrow anyway."

“Feemf fife if fouf fee if fier fefs” he swallowed “interest to do a sneak attack.” 

I think they would rather make a statement," Hack said with an oddly strained expression. They did and Sabo knew they did. He shook his head.

"That's the trouble with..." ....pirates, he was going to say, but some strange emotion stopped him, like a fist clutching his gut. The trouble with pirates? Hadn’t he always admired their spirit? Thinking something different felt like a betrayal somehow. It was ridiculous. He knew pirates, of course. And the Revolutionaries had good dealings with some.

Anyway, he had absolutely no time to dwell on it. The world was going to boil over and if they weren’t prepared they would lose opportunities right and left. They might even lose footing if they weren’t careful and while they could probably afford a backslide now, Sabo would be damned if he let it happen.

He glanced back at the charts, pulling them closer, picking up his pen. There was too much territory, that was the problem. Too many islands, too much uncertainty and too few Revolutionaries to go around. They would be needed everywhere and Sabo didn't like to think of those who were inevitably going to fall through the cracks. Though he had had to learn early that some people they just had to let go. That it was impossible or the risk was too great for them to interfere. It wouldn’t do anyone any good if the Revolution fell apart for the sake of one or two people. 

Hack grumbled something about him eating more than that.

“Mm, thanks, Hack,” Sabo said, finding a little island he’d missed, circling it and then going back over his notes to see if it was of any importance to anyone. It didn’t seem so, but he made a mark to double check it when he didn’t have anything more pressing to do. The pale light of the common room fell across his desk and he heard strained murmurings from the others, a gentle wave of white noise that, if he wasn’t careful, he’d pick up threads of conversation from and that would shoot his focus all to hell. 

Sabo got up and closed the door and then paced back, peering at the charts from a new angle. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. As long as the Whitebeards came out of it in one piece and the old Yonko could still function... without a doubt they'd retreat deeper into their territory to recoup, but they would gain a boost to their already sizable reputation by even surviving this war which would keep enemies reluctant from invading their borders. That would leave the Army free to do what they could to further weaken Marie Jois' stranglehold on the world.

He set the plate to the side, sat back down and drew new vellum onto the desk to trace the maps and chart this outcome, putting faces and ships in places they would need those people the most. And then got even more sheets to imagine what would happen should everything go downhill. There were so many outcomes. So many variances. Was Phoenix Marco strong enough to hold territory on his own? What about the second commander if he was rescued? What if he wasn’t? What if any of the Fleet Admirals were killed or Sengoku himself? It seemed impossible but as Dragon had told him once, everyone died. Death didn’t care if you were great or not. 

But he didn’t want to think about death. He wanted to think about life and preserving it as much as he could. As much as _they_ could. He redrew the charts again, and a third time, until each new variation made him feel a little more crazy. Finally he sighed and put the pen down, sipping his tea and spitting it out, discovering it had gone cold. Why did tea always do that? He flexed his fingers and rolled his neck and got up from the desk and opened the window. The moon was high and the sea bounced with the reflected light. Once he saw freedom out there on the open sea. Usually he did, actually, but in the advent of this all he saw were people on the edge of danger and a lot of open water separating them. 

No time to slow down. 

Soon it would be dawn. 

Soon the a new fate for the world would be written. 

Sabo turned back to his charts, resting his palms on the desk and trying to squeeze an new angle out of them. A possibility he hadn’t considered. A problem that was hidden. There was only that little nondescript island that he wasn’t even sure the name of. 

No, wait…he did know. It was Rougarou, wasn’t it? Or…Seven Day Island… He didn’t think it was significant but it was better to be sure. He had just turned to his stack of books sitting by the wall when the door opened and the gusty sigh that followed told him Koala had entered. 

Good. 

“Help me find the western Whitebeard territory almanac would you? I need to look at Rougarou.” 

“You need sleep,” Koala said. “It’s past midnight.” A pause. “And you didn’t even eat.” 

“I ate some,” Sabo said, picking up a few books and squinting at the scrawled titles. “Who labeled these?” 

“You did,” Koala said impatiently. “And you always do and you always ask.” She plucked the book from his hand. “I’ll look. You eat.” 

He turned to protest but she shoved the plate in his hands and gave him a solid look from under her bangs. 

“I could always sit on you, and you wouldn’t like that.” 

Well, no he wouldn’t, because it always involved some unnatural bending of limbs or fingers on his part… and though he could fight Koala and could possibly win, he wouldn’t be able to do much but want to die afterward. Anyway it was hard to read charts with a black eye. 

“It’s wilted,” Sabo said, perching on the corner of his desk and lifting the edge of the sandwich to see if Koala had snuck the tomato back in there. She had. He picked it out. She puffed her cheeks out at him but then pointed a finger and said: 

“Eat.” 

He took an obedient bite. 

Wilted but still good. He was thirsty and begrudged himself to cold tea, nearly dropping the cup when he found it piping hot under his fingers.

“Hey!” he said, wondering how that could have happened but then noticed the two other tea cups, half empty, and a little kettle still gently steaming in the cooler air. 

“I’ll take that as a thank you,” Koala said, attacking the nearest pile of books with small clever fingers. 

“Thanks,” Sabo said, mollified and glad she had her back to him so she couldn’t see the flush that had spread over his face. Things like this… He knew he didn’t always appreciate… or even notice when she did it but… It was still a good feeling. A feeling like nostalgia… but for a time he’d never had. Or at least, couldn’t remember. 

But he’d made his peace with that at least. 

“And after this you should sleep, Sabo-kun,” she said, opening a book and flicking through it. “You can’t solve every problem that’s going to come up before it happens.” 

“Of course I can,” he said with what he meant to be a devilish grin, or at the very least confident, but the look that she shot him over her shoulder wasn’t even impressed. 

“No you can’t, and you’ll kill yourself trying. Anyway…” She sighed and put the book back before starting on another. “This isn’t like you.” 

“Iff efaffy fife fe,” Sabo said around a mouthful of sandwich. What wasn’t like him? He liked going in prepared. He could roll with surprises and prided himself in his adaptability, but in this kind of situation it was best to know every eventuality, wasn’t it? Of course it was. 

“It’s not perfectly like you,” she said. And then in a lower voice as if speaking to herself. “Well it’s not like I don’t know why.” She put the book down, resting her fingers on it. “I just don’t know why, why.” 

Sabo frowned. She was making less sense than usual and she usually made perfect sense. Was this battle getting to her somehow? He didn’t blame her. Even Dragon seemed a little distracted by it. He crammed the rest of the sandwich in his mouth, washed it down with the nice hot tea and then… as a thought, refilled the cup, and snatched the new book from her hand. 

She turned to him pouting but blinking in surprised when he offered her the teacup. 

“Maybe _you_ need sleep,” he said, kindly. If he had time he’d escort her to her room, or at least see her to the door. She smiled and shook her head, but accepted the tea anyway. 

“We both do. But I’m still helping you look.” And she took the book back. 

That was fine. He really didn’t mind her company. He knelt by one of his sea chests, opening it and wishing he’d thought to alphabetize it a little better, forced to look through the books when the titles weren’t enough to even guess what might be inside them. A lot of these volumes weren’t even his; but almanacs old and new, discussing this or that island, weather, topography, history and fairy tales. He thumbed past a relatively new book called “Tales and Travels of the Pirate King” and felt the cold chill again, like something was tightening along the back of his neck. 

Not a premonition. He didn’t believe in that sort of thing. But it was just because this wasn’t so dissimilar from Roger’s end. At least it had the potential to shake up the world as much… but Sabo didn’t want to think about it. He had a world to save. The implications would come later…whether he liked them or not. 

“What’s this?” Koala said, and before Sabo could look up added: “Berloz’s Treasure Tree?” 

Oh, that…

“I picked it up at a book fair in Beetown.” 

The almanac didn’t seem to be in this sea chest at all. Sabo pushed it to the side and neatly saved the haphazard pile of books stacked against it before sorting through them. 

“It looks like a book for little kids.” 

“It’s apparently based on a real pirate, though.” He couldn’t say why he got it, just that it was cute and the cover of three shakily drawn pirates on a shaky old boat had made him smile at the time. It was kind of a depressing story as most kid’s stories seemed to go. 

Berloz had been a relatively peaceful pirate with a nose for treasure. He was so good at finding it that it netted him a lot of enemies, though mostly Marines for a reason never explained, but Sabo could take a few guesses. At any rate, if Berloz was good at treasure finding, he was even better at treasure hiding. As the story went he’d found a small island with a single tree growing on it, hollowed the trunk out and stuffed it with treasure, adding more and more as the time went on. 

Then one day he was captured by the Marines and sent to prison where he sat and dreamed about his treasure tree and all the great times he would have when he finally got out. Fifty years later, he was released and made his happy way to the island only to find a forest had grown up in that time, and try as he might, he simply couldn’t find his treasure. 

And so he’d decided to live there and tend this forest, deciding all of it was his treasure. And probably died a sad smelly old hermit, or so Sabo thought. But another part of him liked the simple bittersweetness of the ending, while the more sardonic part of him recognized it as a metaphor for his own life. A million trees and not a treasure to be found where he’d left it. Just a forest with everything so familiar but not familiar enough. If he could taste the right leaf or touch the right branch he might remember but… 

But he couldn’t. And frankly he didn’t even know why he’d brought the book with him. He hadn’t even been aware of packing it and usually he was meticulous about this kind of thing even if it got a little messy later. Maybe he hadn’t been paying enough attention as he’d thought. 

“Oh!” Koala said, and Sabo turned to see a folded up piece of paper fall from the book. She caught it deftly before it could fall far and opened the paper, using the book to brace against. A smile dimpled her cheeks and reached her eyes, made an even deeper blue by the glow of the lantern light. 

“What’s that?” he said, standing and grinning himself. “Found a piece of treasure?” 

She chuckled. 

“You tell me,” she said, and tilted the book so he could see. Sabo looked and was startled at first, like he’d gotten a good swift punch to the gut, and then laughed somehow, scratching his cheek. 

“I don’t even know how that got in there.” 

It was a Wanted Poster, specifically featuring a one Monkey D. Luffy, Bounty: Thirty Million. Though it had since jumped to, what, Three Hundred Million? It was a ridiculous amount for a rookie with a baby face like that. Sabo mostly chalked it up to the influence of his crew. Roronoa Zoro had had a big enough name before this kid had even started out, even recruited by the now defunct Baroque Works, though never joining. It wasn’t surprising the swordsman ended up taking them down instead. But now with Demon Child Nico Robin too, it was no wonder his bounty kept jumping. 

Not that declaring war on the World Government helped any. If you believed it. Punching a Tenryuubito in the face was also something Sabo was highly disinclined to believe, but he’d have loved to have been there to see it. 

He could just imagine it, though. The kid’s face screwed up with determination as he glowered up at the towering noble, grabbing his own shoulder and then winding up his skinny little arm for the pitch before fwoosh, it went flying up, stretching the distance and plinked off the noble’s nose with all the force of a tiny rubber band. 

“Well that’s new,” Koala said with a laugh. 

“Huh?” 

“Mm.” She poked the side of his mouth. “I don’t think I’ve seen a smile like that before.” 

“I didn’t even realize it…” He must really be tired. He rubbed his cheek absently, looking at the picture again and felt his smile fade a little. How did a kid with a grin like that even survive out there without those guys really taking care of him? It reminded him about something someone had said about Kuma-san but Sabo hadn’t really paid much attention to. It probably wasn’t important… but… the more he looked at the kid’s smiling face, the more his spirits sunk. 

“What’s wrong?” Koala asked. Sabo folded the paper back up, closed the book around it and set it on the shelf. He wasn’t really sure what was wrong exactly. Except for…for generally speaking. 

“Kids with smiles like that don’t last long.” Or their smiles didn’t if they did. Was he still smiling now? Was he still happy? That was something for Dragon to worry about, wasn’t it? Sabo had too much his plate to worry about a single pirate, no matter how happy his grin. Except… Except… what? Except _what_? What was it? If he closed his eyes he felt like he could brush his fingers against it; but if he could grab hold… if he could _see_ it.

“Maybe they don’t,” Koala said, pressing something against his arm. He looked down and saw the almanac they’d been looking for. “But we can help them hold on a little longer, right?” She tilted her head a little to the side in that way she had that made him wonder how just a few degrees to the right could make her expression so absorbing… But he had no time to be absorbed now. 

“Right,” he said, taking the book and flipping it open “Rougarou…” he murmured to himself.

There it was. Seven Day Island. An Island notorious for changing their loyalties depending on who was stronger. Once they changed sides seven times in seven days and were the last ones left standing in the end. Definitely an island to look out for. Sabo sat back at his desk and pulled the charts around him. 

It wasn’t actually one of the Whitebeard Islands but a kind of anomaly at the edge of his territory making it a pretty critical place for any decisive battles. Not that they could destroy Whitebeard or the Marines but they could sway a fight one way or the other… If they could be persuaded to join the Revolutionary side even temporarily… was that a risk worth taking? Sabo brushed the tip of the wing pen under his lower lip in thought. 

“Get some sleep,” Koala said. He felt a faint brush of a hand against his shoulder, or maybe it was just a moth. Either way the next time he looked up, he was alone, but that was alright, he had work to do.

—

He had no work to do and it was pissing him off. There was absolutely nothing more he could think of to do but wait and right now he _hated_ waiting. He hated that the only news they had coming out of Marine Ford right now was meager, behind the times, and full of bullshit. He hated whomever had let Buggy the freaking Clown take over the feed of the news they did get. Who the hell cared about him? The most they knew right now was Whitebeard had been defeated. Everyone knew that. The world knew it, he was sure. But what did that mean? Was he captured? Dead? And what about the one that they had come to save? Half news was almost worse than no news at all.

Sabo held his hands behind him and tried his best not to pace. Then they’d know he was worried and he was tired of the questions that would bring. He was just fine damnit. He didn’t need everyone worrying over him all the time. He wasn’t the one they should be worried about anyway. Even if he felt dizzy and lightheaded, sure signs of _that_ returning, it was nothing he couldn’t handle. It was just because he was tired, that was all. Just because he’d had a long, frustrating night. But he couldn’t let them in on his feelings. 

Sabo blew out a breath, keeping himself perfectly still, even though he wanted to move. It was important that he maintain a vision of solidarity while everyone was on edge. He should probably look like he was actively doing something to complete the image. 

He fetched a chart and with brisk efficiency laid it on a table, palms braced, trying to look like he was studying it. He didn’t even know which chart it was. Good scenario. Bad scenario. Something in between. In the end it all got confusing and he’d wanted to burn them all to cinders. But he hadn’t because that had been hours and hours of work and he knew that he’d need them later. That most likely what they’d do is compile a meta chart from all the information and form a plan from there. If he could even remember what he’d put down. 

His eyes burned. 

He wiped them irritably and reached reflexively for the cup of tea that was still sitting back on his desk and so not here. Also probably cold. Well fine. He didn’t need tea. He needed some damn information. He needed not to be staring at some stupid chart when he should be— When he should be… where? Doing what? Why did he have these feelings if there weren’t answers for them? Why couldn’t he just catch it? He shook his head and straightened. This was ridiculous. It was just because he needed sleep. Needed _answers_. For right now, though, maybe he could read up on the territories again… see if there was anything he missed. 

Sabo knocked his knuckles against the table and turned to head back to his office when there was a commotion outside. Muffled footsteps. Running. It’s here, said a quiet voice in the back of his mind and a chill swept through him. The door slammed open behind him. 

“The latest news about the ‘War of the Greatest!’” the man bellowed. “There’s even an article about Whitebeard’s defeat!”

“Is Iva-san okay?!” someone called. 

“He isn’t listed among the fatalities. The ones who died are the Yonko Whitebeard—” 

That was surprising. But he couldn’t help but hear an echo of Dragon’s voice in his head: _Everyone dies. It doesn’t matter_

“—and Firefist Ace!” 

A blurred vision. Clearer than any he’d had before. A voice floating in his mind that was familiar in a way that made something cold jolt through his chest. 

_I’m gonna be a pirate!_

No…

No it wasn’t right. It was a misprint. A deception. He couldn’t be— Sabo refused to believe it. He turned and grabbed the paper, looking for some sign it was a trick. But all he saw was Ace’s face. The hard grin under harder eyes. 

Portgas D. Ace: Dead.

 

But that was impossible! How could it be? And why was his face so damn familiar? Sabo had seen it before so why was it _pulling_ at him? Why was his instinct screaming at him to know while something deeper wanted to go as far away as possible? He was disgusted with that part of himself, though he couldn’t say why. 

_Then I’m gonna become a big shot pirate and show the world!_ the kid said. The kid with the same freckles. The same dark eyes. Sabo could smell the woods even as his heart pounded in his ears. The same confidence, determination. It was… He was…. 

He was….! Who? He knew it! He knew! He could almost find it! It was almost within his reach! But with it a sense knife sharp that he should have known before. Of betrayal. Of loss. 

“Apparently, Ace was run through by Akainu,” someone said, voice distant, like at the end of a windy tunnel. Sabo could barely hear it. Barely understand. Ace grinned up at him, black and white, from the picture. 

Portgas D. Ace: Dead. An orange shirt, a grinning face. The feeling of warm sunlight slanting through the woods. The kid holding up a bottle of sake in a small hand. Stolen from… Stolen from her…they’d taken it to… to… 

_Did you guys know?_ he said. Portgas D. Ace said. 

He knew… Sabo knew. He knew though the words weren’t in him. He knew though he felt like he was going to die with the knowing of it. 

_If you exchange vows over a cup of sake with someone, you become brothers!_

…! That …that…was it

Brothers.... 

Someone was calling his name, faintly, but he could barely even register it because all at once whatever wall had been blocking his memories burst and they came crashing down on him like a tidal wave. Crushing his chest. Running through the forest. Pipes on their shoulders. The sweet sour taste of sake. Fighting mountain tigers. Looking up at the stars. The three of them together and Ace…. 

Ace was his brother! Brothers! They were brothers! His beloved brother! They had fought side by side and back to back and promised to be pirates together! But now he was dead!

Sabo was screaming. He couldn't stop. The memories wouldn't stop crashing against him of a face he'd never get to see. A voice he'd never get to hear.

It was no nameless pirate! No foolish Whitebeard! It was _Ace_ who was dead.

His brother!

His BROTHER!

He felt like he was tearing from the inside out. That he would burst open or rip himself apart. His own voice echoed in his ears and he wanted the memories to stop. Just stop. Stop before he lost it completely. 

Then, thankfully, black snapped over his vision and he felt himself fall ....

 

—-

He couldn't tell the difference between dreams and memories. 

They floated. Twisted. Converged. Mingled.

He was an adult playing with them in the tree house, they were all kids eating expensive ramen. Adult Ace with his face shadowed was carrying a sleepy Luffy on his hip and watching the Gray Terminal burn while Sabo tried to hide some mangled puppets so Luffy wouldn't wake up and see them and cry. Ace telling him something important, speaking in his ear with an arm across Sabo's neck.

_Hey_ , Ace said, but when Sabo turned he was at Marine Ford, the heat raging around him, acrid smoke stinging his lungs. Somewhere Ace was screaming in fury. Akainu loomed, lava boiling from his shoulders. Sabo couldn’t get there in time. He was tripping over everything. His legs were too short. Fire flashed out of nowhere, circling around him. Trapping him. He felt the stinging searing heat. The skin curling back from his face. But there was Ace, braced on the ground with small legs and a long pipe as the Marine bore down on him. 

Sabo wanted to tell him to run. 

_I’m not gonna run from anyone!_ Ace said, proudly, grinning, in another time, another place, another life. _And I’m sure as hell not going to lose to anyone!_

There was a _push_ and Sabo blinked awake. 

He was in a bed somehow…. Staring at the ceiling. He… 

He _was_ —-

A wail right near his ear made him sit. Koala and Hack were by his bedside. She was crying, saying how worried she was. He wished she wouldn’t. He wasn’t sure if he could deal with the crying right now. It made his own insides bubble up. But he was the Chief of Staff so… Right… Chief of Staff. He had to be strong. It… was oddly easy…. 

“You had an incredible fever, Sabo. You were out for three days straight! You really had us worried,” Hack said. Three days. Fever. No wonder he felt so weak and watered down. And three days. That was so much time. He could have gotten so much done in three days. There was so much to do. More to do. One thing he had to do he realized with a strange clarity. 

“Do you have your memories back?” Koala asked in a wavering voice. “Are you going to leave us?” 

“No. No I’m not.” How could he? He had so much work piled up. And this place… this place was… well nevermind that. He would leave those feelings and thoughts for later. For right now, though: “Is Dragon-san here? I need to talk to him about something…” 

“I think he’s in the main office…” Koala said, still sounding weak. Sabo nodded. That he could do. He took a breath and then another and while he was breathing, searched around for his boots. There they were by the foot of the bed. Excellent. He pulled off the heavy blankets and swung his feet over the side, reaching for the boots and fighting past the wave of dizziness that swept through him. 

“What are you doing?” Koala and Hack cried in near unison. What did it look like he was doing? Sabo grabbed a boot and pulled it on. It took some effort but that was just because he hadn’t fully woken yet. 

“Going to see Dragon-san,” he told them patiently. More or less patiently. Mostly because they still looked distressed. The other boot fell over making him have to lean down more. He sighed at it and did so. 

“Your body has undergone a lot of strain,” Hack said. “You need to rest.” 

“I’ve spent three days resting.” Though it hadn’t felt as long as that. And then on the other hand it had felt longer. Like he’d somehow woken up in an entirely different lifetime. 

“We’ll bring him to you,” Koala said, sounding stubborn. “You need to lay down.” 

He pulled his other boot on in a gesture of defiance and saw her hand coming for him. He somehow managed to grab her wrist. Not hard. He didn’t even have strength in his fingers to stop a small kitten, let alone Koala. But she did stop. Her eyes widening. He could feel the faint beat of her pulse. Very much alive. 

Unlike others…

“ _Pl—_ ” Sabo cleared his throat. “Please. Let me do this.” 

She blinked at him, then pressed her lips together. She wasn’t happy about it but Sabo let her wrist go because he knew he’d won. He steeled himself only a moment before getting out of bed as smoothly as possible. His knees trembled a little and the room spun, but otherwise he was making a good impression, he was sure. 

He got to the door and realized it was snowing outside. He should put his coat on. Only…first he had to find it. Hack made a harrumphing noise behind him and Sabo half turned to see the Fishman was holding his coat up for him. Sabo had to smile, though mostly at the annoyed expression on his face.

“Thanks,” he said. Now to lift his arms. Always so much lifting involved in going anywhere. Why couldn’t he just float? Or be impervious to cold? But he could do neither and so he managed to get his arms into the sleeves and pull his gloves out of the pockets on the second try, yanking them on. Then his hat… Which Koala held. He stared for a minute at it. The top hat. The goggles. He’d had it since that time. Holding onto it as a piece of what he’d lost. And now he knew that the hat itself meant less then what it was he had lost. That no piece of clothing could ever bring it back. 

But he wouldn’t think about that now, because Koala was looking concerned and he’d really rather not get into it. Rather than lifting his arms again, though, he bowed his head. She blinked, then smiled, tipping the hat on him. It was a cute moment so he tried not to let on on how dizzy he was as he stood again. Hack opened the door for him and it was out into the cold and swirling snow. Ankle deep snow, because of course it was. 

Sabo wasn’t sure where he was. Or he knew. But the name escaped him. His body knew the way, though, instincts leading him unerringly through the small village that looked just like any other snowy village. And in many ways it was. But it was also theirs. Except now people were watching him, worried or closed expressions on their faces. A few people called out a greeting but Sabo didn’t really have the strength to call back. He tripped over something unseen underfoot and Hack steadied him before he could fall. They were following behind him. Koala and Hack. Like an honor guard. He was grateful for their presence but wished they wouldn’t. He was fine. It was fine. He could handle this. 

He was more or less convinced of this when they reached the main office. Hack opened the door for him again and Sabo went in, pulling it shut behind him. Dragon was there, reading the news with a deeper frown than usual, as well as some others, names he knew intimately but couldn’t fit them just now. Some of them called out to him and he only nodded, not really able to reply or wanting to acknowledge their question. Everyone’s question. Was he alright? Of course he was. So he stood there and stared at Dragon until everyone filed out, into different rooms, outside. They would be listening in, because that was the Army’s habit, but that was alright. Dragon rose. Formidable. But said nothing. Waiting for Sabo to speak. 

“I need to ask a favor of the Revolutionary Army,” Sabo said. Or at least some part of him said. He knew he was speaking, but it felt detached somehow. “There is a Devil Fruit that I must possess.” 

Because he couldn’t let that fall into the hands of anyone else. He couldn’t let someone else use _his_ name and _his_ legacy to …to do whatever. Something. It didn’t belong to them, that Devil Fruit. It was too volatile. To precious. It didn’t belong to Sabo either. He wouldn’t make a claim like that. How could he? How did he even deserve to? But he was going to take it regardless because some part of him was still a pirate. 

Dragon watched him for a long moment and Sabo wished he would speak because he was sweating now, cold sweat that got into his eyes and stung. The room was rocking gently and it took Sabo a minute to remember they were on land, actually, and it shouldn’t be happening. It was fine. He was fine. He was good on both. 

“Very well,” Dragon said at last. “Is there anything else?” 

Sabo was unprepared for that question. Somehow it didn’t seem like it was something he knew the answer to and he felt young and uncertain, despite not feeling like this in front of Dragon before. 

“I… no… There’s … there’s nothing else. That’s it… I think.” 

“I see.” Dragon paced toward him and rested a heavy hand on his shoulder. Sabo looked at the man’s shoulder, unable to meet his eyes, not wanting to. He didn’t want to see what might be in them. “Get some rest.” 

“Alright,” Sabo said. He was beginning to feel he wouldn’t have a choice in the matter. His legs were going and so was the rest of him, but a strong arm caught his back and he was being carried, he recognized dimly. But that was alright for now.

—

A day and a half later, Sabo was back at his desk. It felt good to be here. There were a dozen reports to read from just about everywhere it seemed. There wasn’t a Blue that wasn’t affected in some way, though East Blue, as usual, was more or less unscathed. The Grand Line was okay even but the New World was a mess, even moreso because even they still knew so little about everything that went on in that region.

There was something wrong with him, though. Something that had nothing to do with any kind of fever. Here he was, doing work, and feeling nothing. He should feel something, shouldn’t he? Other than tired. Other than weak. But there was just a persistent drone of emptiness, as if whatever had been inside him had been yanked out. It was good for getting some work done, anyway. 

_That_ was still there as well, but intermittently and in short bursts. Giving him memories and things he’d completely forgotten, even from his beginning Revolutionary days. It was annoying. Every fresh memory was like lemon juice over a raw wound. But he wanted them. All of them. To remember what he had wanted to hide for so long. None of it had seemed worth forgetting or even that terrible. 

Odd, too, was the sensation that there were two Sabos. One of them, him, was a Revolutionary with a lot of work left to do and all if it past due as the world powers reshuffled themselves around him. The other was a hapless kid, living in the forest, scared to death of being trapped in that awful house, but having fun with … with his brothers. That kid felt like someone else. Like reading a story or a biography. But the thought was a traitorous one. As if Sabo had never took the vow? As if he wasn’t their brother? As if he could forget that easily just because he had forgotten for so long. _Luffy_ he reminded himself, forcing the image into his mind. It was of the Wanted Poster, though. Classy. 

And then…

Sabo clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth. 

_Ace_. 

He was run through by Akainu. 

The thought popped into his mind rather than an image. He was run through by Akainu. What did that even mean? Sabo couldn’t even imagine it. It felt farcical. Like it was just some kind of government ploy or lie. Iva-san had been there after all, hadn’t he? He was a Revolutionary just like they were. How could Ace have died? 

But then why would Ivankov care about the fate of one foolish pirate, right? 

There was a snap and Sabo looked down to see the wing pen had shattered between his fingers. Damn. Good thing he was already wearing his gloves. He rested his chin on his fist and glanced through another report. Trying to focus. Ace had been run through by Akainu. Ace was dead. The kid was dead. The man was dead. And all Sabo could do was sit here and look at reports and hope that they’d be able to find the Mera Mera no Mi before anyone else ate it. Wasn’t that great? _Look how much your brother cares._

“You’re still working?” Koala said, exasperated. Sabo didn’t even hear the door open. In any case there was no reason to glance up, he slid some papers over the shattered pen and flipped a page. 

“All you said was not to leave the room.” 

“I meant for you to stay in bed.” She flattened a hand over the report and when he looked up at her, she was glowering, her cheeks puffed out. “Someone else can do this.” 

“Someone else can do this and then I’ll have to catch up on that _and_ correct their mistakes.” 

“Oh, so you’re the only one capable, is that what you mean?” Koala said archly, raising her eyebrows. That wasn’t what he meant at all, but before he could defend himself, she finished with those words. “How noble of you.” 

"It's not about that. The world is in chaos right now. I have to send people to dangerous places and they might die. I have to make sure to send the right person to the right place. Should I put that pressure on someone else? That if they make a mistake they'll be responsible? I'm the Chief of Staff! I have to be the one held accountable! I _have_ to be there!"

Koala was leaning back and his throat felt raw. He suddenly realized he'd raised his voice, if not outright shouted at her. Wait… He hadn’t… He hadn’t meant… 

"I'm sorry," he said, sitting back down, uncurling his hands from fists and busied himself looking for a new pen. "I have to get this done.” 

Koala sighed, then shook her head. He could see her in the corner of his eye and she seemed to be smiling faintly. She had too much patience with him if that was the case. Though he’d known that for a long time now. 

"It's okay." Koala said, softly. "I'll bring you some tea later okay?"

"Thanks," he murmured, pulling a report close and resting his forehead on his palm to read it. Hunched like this it felt more private somehow and gave him a much easier focus as it shut out the world. That was what he needed, probably. There was no time to think. No time to dwell on things that bubbled just below the surface. He had too much to do…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was initially going to be three chapters-- But since it seems like the Episode of Sabo might coincide with things I plan to go over, I'm going to split the second chapter in half and release the second half after I've seen what the episode is going to do. 
> 
> Also as to the question of if there is a schedule for a release for this fic... XD Well, yes and no. I have my own internal schedule but I have a hard time sticking to anything. So there's that. 
> 
> Anyway thanks for reading/commenting/kudosing, you guys.


	3. When the Sky Comes Falling Down for You, There's Nothing in this World I Wouldn't Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The more he learns, the harder it hits. The truth is always hard to accept, but harder still to know what to do with.

The words from the Rogarou report blurred once more and Sabo closed his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose where a headache had been softly beating for the past hour? Few hours? He raised his head and blinked, reaching absently for the teacup which was warm. What time was it? What day? He thought wryly as he noticed the darkness of the room around him, light coming from the fire someone had set in the hearth and the lamp that flickered above his desk. He sat back in the chair, then needing to stretch his legs, got up, moving to the window to look out at the glittering sea. The moon had risen too high to be seen from his vantage but he could see it reflected in the water and gleaming dimly on the black volcanic rocks that made up the shore on this side of the island.

It had been ten days since the world had changed. Almost two weeks. And the Army was starting to mobilize. Right now it was still in the paperwork… like drawing in a great breath as they gathered the news of the world, tried to glean truth from the lies, deciding which islands needed immediate attention, which could wait and which… Which they had to loosen their hold on. Sabo winced at the thought, lowering the teacup to hold between laced fingers. He hated doing it. Thankfully it wasn’t his decision. He only advised Dragon but… one day it _would_ be his decision.  He hated letting anything go. Leaving anyone in doubt or fear. The Army wouldn’t completely withdraw, of course. They would try to make sure that the most desperate had places to go. But it was always a balancing act. They had to make their presence known. As an Army of the people’s hope, they couldn’t be seen to back down from governmental forces. But… being suicidal about it wouldn’t do anyone any good.

Still, it wasn’t so bad yet. The chaos proved advantageous as usual as pirates scrambled for power, groups breaking and reassembling, allies forming and splintering, the Marines struggling to keep the worst of it under control while at the same time fighting their own internal battles. Sengoku was stepping down, even though it hadn’t been announced officially yet. The rumors were flying that two of the fleet admirals would be jostling for the position. From what he knew of them, it wasn’t likely to be Kizaru… and whoever won between the remaining two would change the nature of the world yet again. Frankly he hoped they offed each other and left Kizaru to fill the position. He seemed to be a man who always did what he was told, but couldn’t function without orders. A Marine without initiative of his own was easy to plan around.

Sabo wasn’t going to count on it though.

In the meantime, once the great exhale of mobilization was in effect, Sabo could breathe again. He could go out in the field where he was meant to be. He could affect change. With his pipe, or his hands, or in any way that could give hope to the hopeless.

A faint muffled puru caught his attention. Sabo set the tea cup down and searched around for the Den Den. It took a few moments but he finally found it half buried marked under a pile of papers in the ‘do not care’ pile. Who was it at this hour? … Whatever hour that was. Probably Koala giving the Den Den’s anxious look and eyelashes. With her it could be just about any kind of news. Might as well find out.

“Thanks for the tea,” he said, since it was still warm, he figured she had something to do with it. She hesitated and then let out a faint breath.

“You’re welcome, Sabo-kun. But it wasn’t me. It was the new boy from Keyes whose name you haven’t even remembered.”

“Oh, Portico,” Sabo said. Too bad he couldn’t place a face yet. He had the overall idea of gloom, though.

“How come you know this now?!” she growled at him and he grinned, enjoying her temper. He’d only found it out recently. A name overheard and slipped in sideways when he had made a brief trip to the inn that served as their commissary in an attempt to get out of his office. She took a deep breath and let it out. He could practically see her cheeks puffing with exasperation. But when she spoke it was quietly.

“I just wanted to let you know that Iva-san has decided to leave with the morning tide…”

Sabo stared out the window without really seeing anything. He’d seen Ivankov when he’d first arrived of course, but less because he’d missed the okama and more because it was expected of him. Though he had missed him intellectually. He knew the emotion should be there and that was another reason he’d gone. Iva-san had treated the arrival with his usual bombast and cheer and Sabo hadn’t been able to stay around for long. Too much to do.

And then a few days ago, Inazuma had approached him on the street and told him somberly that Ivankov had been there— had seen all that had happened… and he’d be willing to tell Sabo everything if Sabo wanted to hear… But…

“Sabo-kun?” Koala said, concerned. He blinked at her voice, having forgotten she was still on the line.

“Thanks,” he said, and pressed the top of the shell so the Den Den fell asleep once more. Sabo set it on the windowsill before pushing the window open and leaning on the sill himself, closing his eyes as a faint wind lifted through his hair and he smelled the sea.

It had been ten days since _that_ had happened, too.

Since… Since Ace…

He opened his eyes once more, curling his hands absently against the wood.

Since it had happened…

He knew he should feel sad. He should be mourning. He had at first. He remembered how much it had hurt. How much he’d wanted to die from the pain of it but… But now… He didn’t feel much of anything at all other than the pressing need to get back to work.

Maybe because a part of him still felt it was ridiculous. Ace wasn’t— Ace hadn’t been— there. Ace couldn’t be dead. Ace was _ten_.  Sabo could imagine him easily. As easily as he’d forgotten him, it seemed. Just a kid with wild black hair, a little stocky, wearing a yellow tank top and that brace on his elbow for reasons Sabo never knew. Freckles. A smirk. A come and get me attitude.

He could see him even now, running along the rocky coast he’d never been down. Stopping and turning to look up at Sabo, the pipe clanking authoritatively against the rock in a non sound as he grinned. Come on! His body language was saying. And, as if Sabo’s imagination had taken a life of his own, the image of his own childself stirred, put a booted foot on the windowsill, ready to launch out in the wild beyond and adventure and freedom.

But it didn’t go further than that because imagination was imagination and Sabo was Sabo and because of that, he supposed, he had over-dramatically decided the imaginary Ace should fade with the moonlight, his grin fading with his form until at last he was sullen and hurt.

 It was so stupid. He almost wanted to apologize to both of them. The knot in his throat welling now over something so useless.

Ace wasn’t ten. He knew that. Ace was… Ace had been… Hell… Sabo straightened and knocked a fist lightly against the windowsill. Ace was-- would have been his age. Still hurt. Angry as ever. Arm around his throat. Words in his ear. Remember…

Oh he had remembered. He had in spades…

Of course it was too late for him to be _useful_.

Sabo kicked the wall and then scrambled to catch the Den Den before it fell out the window. He carefully transferred it back to the desk with both hands and set it in a drawer where it could sleep in peace before bracing both hands on the desk, fingers curling into fists. This was stupid. This was self-pitying. This was getting angry and there wasn’t time.  He grabbed a sheaf of papers, glaring at the words in order to bully them into his mind— to get back to work…

…but could  he just so easily forget it? Could he so easily brush all this aside like it was nothing? Like those memories, ill-timed as they had been, meant nothing? Like the sake they had shared… the adventures they had had… Ace had saved him in more ways than one and could Sabo so easily sweep it under the table for the sake of… for the sake of the rest of the world?

The world which had ultimately killed him.

Sabo closed his eyes tightly.

No. The world hadn’t done it, he reminded himself fiercely. The government had. It had twisted Ace’s fate like it had the fate of so many others, helpless to fight against such a crushing force. Which was why Sabo had to help them now when they needed it.

Because he’d damn well failed to help Ace in any capacity. And what had he been doing when Ace had been suffering? Had been dying? Pacing about this damn room and hating the annoying Whitebeard who had inconvenienced them all by getting captured!

Sabo slammed the papers down and winced as a crack went through the desk, seeming loud as a rifle shot. A part of him wanted to keep breaking it. But yes, destroying things, that was the answer he needed. That would make things better. That would bring Ace back.

But what was he supposed to do? Where were these feelings supposed to go? They were just lodged in his throat and his chest. Making him dizzy. He hated himself for wanting to banish them to work. He hated himself for not giving into them as he should.

He straightened, uncurling his hands by sheer mental will and took a deep breath in between his teeth, let it out again, tried to still the rage that was roiling in him. He could do this. He had to do this. There wasn’t time for this nonsense but obviously it wanted to play itself out in him whether he willed it or no…

So…

So he’d go to Ivankov and see what the okama had to tell him, Sabo decided, reaching into the drawer for his gloves. Maybe it wouldn’t help but— maybe at least it would give him some direction

***

Even though dawn was still more than a few hours away, the tide seemed to already be pulling at the ship that sat in the harbor. Or maybe it was Sabo’s imagination. He stood uncertainly on the deck in front of Ivankov’s quarters, feeling the rise and fall underneath his feet— the two or so crew members standing on watch, glancing at him just as uncertainly and giving him strange looks as if they didn’t know what he was doing here.

_He_ didn’t know what he was doing here. What could it help, really? He already knew most of the details. Well ‘details’. What the papers had chosen to print, overlaid with propaganda and agenda. He’d stopped reading them because he’d kept wanting to smash his fist through the wall. Would this be any different? Well, probably, Sabo thought wryly. If he put his fist through Ivankov’s wall, Ivankov would have something to say about it. He raised his knuckles to knock, lowered them again, cursed himself for the feeling of anxiety welling inside him and raised his hand again. He had to hear this. He owed Ace to hear it.  As it wasn’t as if he could give him anything else. Too damn late for that.

Despite the now familiar feeling of anger knotting through his veins, Sabo knocked politely, even the sharpness of knuckles on wood dulled by the leather of his gloves. It only took a few seconds for the door to open. He was expected. Inazuma stood there, clutching a night robe closed with one hand, the other holding his ever present glass of wine.

“So you did come,” Inazuma said, pushing open the door the rest of the way and gesturing Sabo inside with a wave of his hand. Her hand, Sabo mentally corrected as her robe gapped open a bit. He looked away, glad that it was dim enough so no one could tease him about the heat on his cheeks as he sat in one of the room’s overstuffed chairs.

“Wine?” Inazuma asked.

“No thank you,” Sabo said, pulling off his gloves and putting them absently in his hat, setting both on the claw footed table. Inazuma nodded and said:

“One moment,” before drifting into another room. Sabo rested his hands on his knees, wondering if he should have taken the wine after all—despite the fact he didn’t really drink much. He preferred to be clear headed. He should be clear headed in a moment like this. Crystal clear. He couldn’t forget a single word. Whatever those words were.

Sweat was starting to prickle the back of his neck before the door opened yet again and Ivankov entered the room in a fluffy dressing gown, his hair in massive pink curlers that brushed the roof as he came toward Sabo with both hands outstretched.

“Sabo-boy,” Ivankov said and Sabo rose, allowing himself to be pulled into the man’s firm if somewhat crushing embrace. “Vi am sorry! If vi had kvown!”

“It’s alright,” Sabo wheezed. It was better for Ivankov to have a cheerful return anyway. The okama deserved to celebrate with the others who had missed him or had never met him without that hanging over his head. After another squeeze during which Sabo contemplated lining his spine with armament haki, Ivankov let him go and Sabo sat in the chair, feeling slightly breathless.

“Vyes, vi _do_ have that effvect on people,” the okama said with a wink. Sabo grinned a little, more out of knee-jerk politeness than anything. He liked Ivankov and respected him and for the most part enjoyed his sense of humor… and had missed it.

“How was your trip?” Sabo asked, which was probably the stupidest thing to say at the moment considering everything. How was escaping from a war that shook the world after the rigors of Impel Down? Pleasant? He mentally shook his head and took a breath, absently accepting the wine glass that Inazuma gave him. Maybe he’d need a little after all.

“Interesting to svay the least,” Ivankov said, settling down in the opposite chair and lounging back, crossing his feet at the ankle. “But vi am not hvere to talk about _me_.”

Ivankov was teasing, but Sabo almost wished he would talk about himself. He wouldn’t mind hearing that adventure instead. But _why_ did he keep trying to run away from this? To slip back into the comfortable life where Ace was no more than an uncomfortable presence? Why couldn’t he remember those times fondly as well as these ones? Why did he have to push his brother away as so many others must have done? If it was guilt it was _stupid_ guilt. If it was cowardice he needed to be _better_ than that.

“Vi am surprised vyou came.” Ivankov’s uncharacteristically soft voice drew Sabo back to the present. The okama was watching the wine that was being poured into his glass, the dimness of the room turning the color almost a purple. Sabo was suddenly glad it wasn’t red. He didn’t think he could stomach it.

“Surprised but glad,” Ivankov continued, settling back in the depths of the chair. Inazuma gave a little bow with her shoulders and left the room, shutting the door. Sabo felt a little relieved. He wouldn’t have been able to ask the other okama to leave of her own accord. She belonged at Ivankov’s side as often as she wanted to be there.

“I—” wanted to hear? No and yes. Needed to hear? Yes and it was probably a bad idea. Who was he kidding? This wasn’t going to solve anything.  “… had to…” He looked into his own glass, holding it between his two hands, watching the fuzzy circles of lantern light flicker in it. “I don’t know why. I don’t know what good it will do.”

“Vi believe the truth is always gvood to hvear. Even if vit is hard. Or pvainful.”

“It’s the Revolutionary way,” Sabo murmured. He’d learned that. Internalized it into the saying he told only to himself. They were the ones that knew the truth after all. Knew it, heard it, or fought to discover it. Never to deny it for something easier. Something safer. Always to change the truth, though, always to do something with it. Set a new truth in its place. What could he set in _this_ place? The truth no one could change. The truth that was words carved into stone that all you could do was break, but that wouldn’t change the words that had been written.

“Vit is, and vyou’ve alvays fought hard to make the truth a vittle bit bvetter,” Ivankov said fondly. “In fvact Mugi-chan and vyou seem similar in thvat way. He is vyour brother as vell, no?”

Mugi-chan? Oh, he must mean Luffy. Shit he’d totally forgotten Luffy had been there at all. The thought made his chest tighten in a familiar feeling that he couldn’t pin right away. Of course Luffy would be there. Of course he would. Right in the thick of danger. He could barely get his fist to fly in a straight damn line… But, he had competent nakama, Sabo reminded himself. At least two of them. And they must have kept him back, or protected him, because he was alive right now after all, so that was one less thing to worry about.

Of course it meant that he had seen… he had seen what had happened. And Luffy… Was probably a damn mess.

Sabo should be there for him—

Should… Should just…

But what could he do? What he just showed up and … and apologized? Said, sorry, Lu, I forgot you existed for ten odd years. Too bad about— Sorry I wasn’t— Apparently Ace wasn’t even important to remember so I just— I wasn’t there… Sorry I wasn’t there… and Luffy… how could he face him? Even if all Luffy would do was cry at him… Luffy should hate him. Resent him at least… But the fact that he would just— that he would just cry and … and ask where were you? Aren’t we brothers? Why did you forget?

If he had known… If he had _known!_ What the hell was wrong with him?

“Cvome back, Sabo-boy,” Ivankov said softly. “Vi haven’t even started vyet.”

Sabo blinked. Straightened. Pinched the bridge of his nose and tried his best to push those thoughts to the back of his mind. One thing at a time or he would go crazy.

“Sorry.”

This was ridiculous. If he kept getting internally side tracked like this, it could go on all night, and Ivankov probably didn’t have the time. Hell, Sabo definitely didn’t. He took a deep breath and let it out, trying to soothe his nerves and the emotions which jumbled inside him. He would just approach this, for now, like any problem. Like any hard truth he’d ever faced. The rest would come later when and if he had the luxury of time to deal with it. Probably after this mess was further on its way to being over. Yes. This was just intel. That was all. He would process it later.

This firmly in mind, he looked up to meet Ivankov’s eyes.

“Go on,” Sabo said. “I’m ready.”

The okama gave him a wide sad smile and said:

“Nvo, Vi don’t think vyou are….”

 

***

 

Ivankov had been right as usual. Sabo strode down the narrow cobbled street, not sure where he was going but letting his body carry him. It felt like every muscle in him was tense, and the back of his eyes burned. Somehow he’d managed to reign himself in. To bolt himself back. To listen to everything Ivankov had said and then politely excuse himself and step out into the morning. But the further away he got, the more the tension tightened through him as Ivankov’s words echoed in his mind and his imagination took over the rest, filling in the gaps with wonderful detail. And of course it hadn’t helped at all.

Not a damn bit.

It was kind of funny.. Before Ivankov had even began to speak about it, Sabo had had a sudden sinking fear. What if he didn’t recognize Ace at all? What if Ace had changed or, even worse, his own memories were faulty and  he had just been making up things he wanted to believe.

But no.

He recognized Ace. He recognized every stupid word that came out of his stupid mouth and could guess all the stupid thoughts whirring around in his stupid skull. Luffy, too. That idiot. Being typical Luffy. Being where he _shouldn_ _’t_. Throwing himself in carelessly, recklessly. How many damn reptiles had they had to pull him out of growing up? How many heart attacks had he given them just by being his stupid rubber headed self? His chest tightening after hearing about all that Luffy had done had been almost nostalgic. Sneaking into Impel Down. _Impel Down_. Going to Marine Ford itself where he was so out of his league he couldn’t even belly up to the table. Hell even Sabo would have been out of his league at that place. Maybe only Dragon would have stood a chance and only if he’d had the might of the Army behind him as Whitebeard had had his.

Sabo wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake some common sense into his stupid rubbery head. And, failing that, because of course he would, he wanted to knot Luffy’s arms up with his legs and kick him all the way back to Corvo. Then maybe nail his shirt to the floor for good measure. Where the _hell_ had his nakama been? Didn’t they know better than to let him do this kind of thing all his own? Were they really so damn careless? Sabo was half a mind to kick them all back to Corvo until they learned a little better.

And Ace…

Sabo braced a hand against the wall, taking a deep breath.

Ace that idiot.

There had been a chance there. A small window but a window. Ivankov had seen it. Had had hope. Maybe they could pull it off.

But then Akainu had spoken. 

And they had just been _words._

He curled his hand into a fist, feeling his teeth grit together.

Just _words._

A taunt and a pathetic one at that.

_Who cares if he calls Whitebeard weak?!_ Sabo wanted to shout it at him. To grab his shoulders and yell it into his damn stubborn face. _Who cares?!_  

But Ace cared. He always cared about stupid words spoken by stupid people and never backed down from an opponent even if that opponent was ready to _kill_ him. Because he had to prove to the whole damn world that he wasn’t afraid. Sabo remembered that. Remembered all of the times they’d nearly gotten themselves killed because of this stup— stubborn pride.

And then the asshole Marine had gone right for Ace’s weakness. A weakness even greater than the foulest of taunts. He’d gone straight for their dumb little brother who shouldn’t have been there to begin with and Ace…

And Ace…

Oh god…

Sabo pressed the backs of his fingers against his mouth feeling like he was going to be sick.

Ivankov hadn’t been so specific but Sabo suddenly remembered reading it or hearing the rumor. Rumors. Of what Akainu had done.

And that had been the end.

It didn’t seem right. Even now. Like a story with an ending that was all wrong. It couldn’t be the end. He wanted to believe that Ace had survived somehow. Had gone into hiding. Was grievously injured. That was how it should be. But it wasn’t. It wasn’t, and —

“Sabo-kun?”

Sabo startled at the sound of his name, turning to blink at Koala, her hair made a deep red by the rising sun behind her.  Beside and around her were Hack and a few others of their cohorts, recently returned from some place or the other. Sabo knew where but somehow had completely blanked on the name of the place. He hadn’t even heard them come up.

“Good morning,” he said, feeling faint and distant. Hack raised his eyebrows and Koala’s frown deepened as she held out something to him. His hat, with his gloves still inside.

“You forgot this,” she said.

How could he have? He never forgot it. It had always been with him. A part of the past. It seemed almost meaningless now. He’d held onto it because it must have been important to him. It had been a part of him. And he had spent many nights as a kid wondering what it could mean. And it meant nothing compared to what he had left behind. What he had forgotten. Sabo found himself putting on his gloves anyway and bending so that Koala could place the hat on his head which she did with only a little hesitation.

“Where are you going?” he asked them as they all watched him as if startled he was even there. Why did people keep looking at him that way?

“To the debriefing,” Koala said. Oh, right… Debriefing. Because they needed to be debriefed. Information needed to be shared. They were still busy. Life still had to go on. He nodded, adjusting his hat, and started ahead of them, trying to remember what building they were even going to meet at, slowing only a little when Koala touched his arm.

“Are you sure?” she said.

“Of course.”

What kind of question was that? Of course he was sure. He had to oversee it. He had to ask the right questions. He had to be there. Though even as he was walking he heard Ivankov’s words again. Saw it unfolding in front of him again. Felt the grit and heat in the air from the fire. Saw Luffy sitting there, tiny and wide eyed as the Marine approached. Ace moving to get in the way— And then…

And then—

He could have done something. The realization hit him like a slug to the gut. Maybe he couldn’t have pried Ace away from Akainu-- but he could have gotten Luffy out of the way! Though Ace would still have fought, Sabo knew. He would have fought because he couldn’t do anything else but answer that kind of challenge and he still would have died because not even Ace could take on that man. Not head on. Not otherwise. Not after being through that hell hole of a prison. But maybe they could have stood down Akainu together. And suddenly it was all he could think about. Ideas and scenarios buzzed around his head. He could have done this or this and that might have happened but he could have countered it with something else. He clutched at his head, wanting to make it stop, the wind roaring in his ears. It was _that_ again. Not memories this time but madness as the thoughts circled over and over in his head.

He heard Koala calling his name and realized faintly he’d fallen to his knees on the cobblestone. Pulling his hands from his head, he clenched them into fists against the ground. In some corner of his mind he knew what how he must look. He should tell her _something._ Even, I’m fine. But he wasn’t fine. Nothing about this was fine! It was all wrong!

“I should have been there!”

“You didn’t know!” Koala said. “You couldn’t have known!”

That didn’t matter. He should have remembered! He should never have forgotten to begin with! Why couldn’t he have known? Why couldn’t he have been there when they needed him?! What if they’d been waiting on him or expecting him and then just— nothing. How could he have betrayed them?! What the hell was wrong with him?! It felt like his body was twisting up in knots, drawing tighter and tighter, making it impossible to breathe— Impossible to think— He wanted to tear them out with his hands just so he’d be able to gasp in a breath.

“In any case…” Hack said, voice faint and buzzing. “There’s nothing you can do now.”

“Don’t you think I know that?!” Sabo snapped, finding himself on his feet, hand twisted in Hack’s collar. “Don’t you think I know?! Don’t you think I don’t realize every damn hour of the day?!” Because that was it. That was all of it. Like watching the Grey Terminal burn and all he could do was throw himself uselessly at the stupid guards, unable to get out, to help his brothers, to even _find_ them. He had been useless then and even more now. The knots climbed into his throat until he felt like he would choke on him.

“That’s enough,” Dragon said from behind him. Sabo blinked, coming back to himself, sucking in a shaking breath. Dragon’s hand was on his arm and he realized he was lifting Hack into the air. Not high because the Fishman was big and heavy but his feet were definitely not touching the ground. What— what was he doing? What was he thinking? He lowered Hack to the ground, but it took him a moment to unknot his fingers.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. Something like cold embarrassment flushed across the back of his neck. To assault a subordinate like that. Without even meaning to—! To lose so much control… Damnit.

“It’s alright,” Hack said, though he was sweating lightly. “You’ve been under a lot of stress.”

“Exactly, which is why you need to rest more!” Koala said, clenching her hand into a fist and nearly grabbing his coat herself. He felt a little burst of fondness, but mostly their concern stung. Especially when the others, who hadn’t even seen him before this mess, agreed that he was okay he just needed rest. They shouldn’t have to be making excuses for him. He should be better than this. He managed to smile a little, wanting to seem sheepish, and tried to think of something to say but nothing came to mind.

“Head on to the debriefing,” Dragon said. “I’ll be there in a moment.”

They looked at each other, but then continued forward, murmuring platitudes as they passed him. He appreciated it. He did. It was nice to know that they cared and that they were still a unified force despite the fact that their chief of staff was completely off his nut. Hack put a hand on his shoulder as he passed, but said nothing, and Sabo knew he would have to make it up to the Fishman somehow. Only Koala remained, her hands fisted, bracing for a fight as she shifted glowers between him and Dragon. Sabo cleared his throat.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice rough. He wanted to add ‘please’ but knew that would break something he couldn’t afford to have broken. He didn’t want her here right now. To witness this. Whatever it was going to be. She had already seen enough. Too much. She fixed her glower on him, then abruptly her face softened and her shoulders fell a little, before straightening.

“I’ll begin without you then,” she said. “We’ll have a more focused report when you return, Dragon-san.” With a nod she adjusted the brim of her own hat and left. Sabo waited until he was sure she was a good distance before rubbing his opposite arm, wanting to do something. A strange feeling settled in his throat, cold and bitter, but his eyes were dry. Not that it would matter if they were or not. He squeezed his arm tight. Not that he could change anything just by feeling bad about it. Not that he could change anything at all. Shit.

Dragon’s hands rested warm on his shoulders and Sabo felt a little comforted despite the fact he didn’t deserve to. He felt half and half. Slipping as a Revolutionary. Barely even able to call himself a brother. Not a journalist or pirate like he’d meant to be. And not even the Revolutionary he should be. He almost didn’t _want_ to be, as maudlin a thought as that was.

“Sometimes we can’t be there for the ones we love,” Dragon said. “As much as we would want to be.”

“I would have been there,” Sabo said, the words feeling like glass on his tongue. “I would have been there no matter what.” Even if he had to leave them behind. Because his bond with Ace and Luffy… Their bond was even greater… To risk his life for. To put his life on the line for them… Even though he’d leave so much— too much behind. But he wouldn’t have gone in to die. He would have fought to live.

“And we would have been behind you,” Dragon said, and with a rough chuckle. “No matter what.”

“It’s not a Revolutionary matter,” Sabo said automatically. It wouldn’t have been. It would have been highly personal. Nothing to gain for the Army’s end and plenty to lose so best to sit back and watch where the embers landed.

“We’re an army for the people, but also _made_ of people,” Dragon said. “We can’t be sensible all of the time.”

“You only say that when you’re about to do something reckless,” Sabo grumbled.

“At least I say something,” Dragon countered, still sounding amused. What was that supposed to mean? Sometimes it was better for Sabo to handle things by himself and telling people would only make them worry. Anyway it might be reckless sometimes but it was sensible, too. A faint breeze blew in landward, curling Sabo’s coat around his legs and carrying with it the faint bitter smell of snow. Dragon sighed.

“In any case, that’s not what happened.”

“No…” Sabo said, clutching his arm and sucking in a breath through his nose. “Why did I forget? Why—? I didn’t… I shouldn’t have. Ace was— and Luffy— they were the… only good things…” he shook his head. They had showed him that there _were_ such things as friendship. Camaraderie. Love.

“I don’t know,” Dragon said. “But it wasn’t your fault.” 

Sabo snorted and Dragon’s grip tightened.

“It wasn’t,” he continued. “Anymore than it’s the fault of soldiers who still shake years after the battle.”

“I can’t just accept that,” Sabo said. But accept it or not,  there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t change the past. He just had to accept the present where… the present where… where Ace was gone. Gone. Dead. No more. No more chances. No more opportunities. No more potential. No more evil grins or hot flashes of temper.

“You can’t continue to blame yourself either,” Dragon said. “Ace made his choices.” 

The unexpected words slashed through him, hot and cold all at once and he wrenched away from Dragon and whirled on him, not sure what to make of the man standing in front of him right now.

“What the hell do you mean by that?” Sabo snapped. If Dragon… If Dragon really believed… If… If that was really all there was… Then… Then…! Dragon’s expression was unreadable but his eyes seemed oddly warm. As if he was fighting with some emotion himself. Sabo couldn’t even get appropriately angry.

“I don’t know as much about Ace as you,” Dragon said. “But I know more than you think. He made the choice to be a pirate, did he not? Knowing full well the consequences of that.”

“I’m not so sure he knew.” None of them had really known the consequences then. They had just been kids playing at games until Sabo’s reality had come to strike them all in the face.

“Of course he knew.” Dragon gripped his shoulders again. “By all accounts he left as a man, not a child. By more accounts he always acted as if he knew exactly what he was doing. What he was risking.”

That was probably true… Ace… wasn’t a child anymore after all. He wasn’t stupid, either. It was hard to reconcile that. To imagine the kid in the tank top and the pipe and the scruffy hair turning into the tattooed shirtless man with— the same scruffy hair only longer. The same careless freckles and smirk. Sabo swallowed and shook his head.

“I don’t care if he did. That doesn’t mean— They can’t just—” But they could. Of course they could. That was the role of Marine and Pirate. That was what always happened.  Hell, Sabo even approved of it now and again when it was a pirate with a reputation for bloodshed. But they had brothers. Family. Nakama. Of course he’d known that and had approved anyway. They were bastards who wouldn’t stop until someone stopped them. But Ace… Ace was… Sabo couldn’t believe Ace was anything like that.

“He was executed because of politics,” Sabo said, voice tight. He’d known that even before he’d remembered. That was the real reason. It had never been about Ace. It had been about Whitebeard and Ace’s parentage and the Marines wanting to make a strong show of force because they were weakening, being pecked at by corruption and the world government and this new pirate age. That was why.

“He was killed, not executed.”

“Semantics…” Sabo said. Dragon’s grip tightened.

“No. Listen to me, Sabo. Look at me.” His voice was so fierce that Sabo looked before he even knew what he was doing. Dragon seemed angry but his eyes were even glassier than before. He’d never seen this look. He didn’t know what to make of it. “I can’t tell you the exact circumstances beyond what Ivankov saw, but that man died on his own terms in order to protect Luffy.  In order to protect my son. He made a _choice_ to do this. And I can never forget that.”

Sabo could see it, hear it, taste the ashes in his mouth as Ace stood there. No longer a child in his imagination, but a blurred figure. Someone he almost knew but not quite. And Dragon… Dragon seemed ready to… As if he was upset himself. It pulled something deep in Sabo’s gut. He gripped Dragon’s arms, unsure of what else to do, the words spilling out of him.

“But if I was there… If I was there I could have done something! I know I could have! I should have been there! I should have _been there!_ But I wasn’t and… and I don’t know what to do.” His voice broke and he held a hand over his eyes as the tears slipped out, spilling down his face, his nose full, too, but he couldn’t stop it, he couldn’t hold it in, even though he knew he was only crying for himself.

Dragon was suddenly hugging him tightly, one hand against his hair and Sabo could only stand there, crying more than he ever thought he could. It hurt. It all hurt and there was nowhere for it to go. Once more beating uselessly against that damn wall, crying for a friend that he would never see again.

 Dragon held on to him, even though it felt like hours until he was too exhausted but do more than lay his forehead on Dragon’s shoulder and sniff, trying not to get snot on him, his eyes aching, his chest still hollow and knotted all at once. The only thing that had changed was that he was miserable as well as clueless, feeling almost adrift except that he wasn’t alone. Shouldn’t he be, though? Isn’t that what he deserved?

“I’m sorry,” he said in a creaky voice. “I… I don’t know how to get beyond this… I don’t… even know how to feel, I…” He shook his head, sniffed again, pressed his sleeve under his nose and felt a few more tears leak out even when he thought they’d all gone.

“You’ll find a way,” Dragon said. “The world will go on… But for now it can wait a little while.” He pulled away and cupped Sabo’s face in both hands, making him look up. He had done this before. A long long time ago when Sabo had a much higher distance to look. “For now, get some rest. I will handle the rest of the mobilization.”

“But—” Sabo said.

“An order,” Dragon said, letting him go and pushing Sabo’s hat down so the brim covered his eyes. “You’re going through shock right now and will be careless without even meaning to be. And more importantly…” He could hear the smile in Dragon’s voice. “Everyone will worry.”

Sabo nodded, feeling no fight left in him. Everything was numb and weak and he barely felt able to hold himself up. But he had enough pride to get himself to his room at least. Dragon put a lingering hand on his shoulder.

“I left something in your room,” Dragon said. “I don’t know if it will help or not, but look at it _only_ when you’re ready.”

He squeezed Sabo’s shoulder and after a lingering moment, walked away. Sabo adjusted his hat up, still keeping his eyes shadowed, and walked with slow confidence to his rooms, for the benefit of anyone who might be watching. He made it miraculously without meeting anyone and went straight into his bedroom, bypassing the little office. If he stopped there he wouldn’t go on.

His room was… homey. Sabo took off his hat, setting it on the peg on the wall and looked around as he peeled off his gloves. A fire had been lit. There was a tray on his little table, with hot tea and a bowl of soup steaming gently in the warm air. On the bedside table was one of his books with a folded piece of newspaper on top of it. Sabo eyed the newspaper… reached for it and then shook his head. He locked the door, washed his face and hands in the little attached bathroom, then, even more weary, pulled on his night clothes. Just a shirt and pants, really, but soft and warm, made for a winter climate. They were frayed a little around the hems and the shirt had the word RENEGADE printed across it in blocky blue letters. Sabo had liked it the moment he saw it.

He sat at the table and ate, eyes straying to the newspaper on occasion, dully wondering what it was and at the same time, having a good idea of what it might be. He should read it probably. He should pluck up the courage and see. Be strong. Be the man he should be. Sabo finished his meal and his tea, then moved to sit on the edge of the bed, running his fingertips over the paper. Whatever Dragon had wanted him to see must be folded on the inside.  Sabo laid back, holding the paper above him, then sighed and closed his eyes, letting both hands drop on his chest. He didn’t have the energy for this.

Opening his eyes once more he took the book, thinking to hide the paper in its pages for now, smiling and flushing faintly as he caught the title. Berloz’s Treasure Tree. Dragon really did see everything, didn’t he? Sabo pushed the paper in hastily, not even wanting to see what else was in there right now, and then tucked the book in the dresser drawer. He felt better somehow once the drawer was closed. More peaceful. He yawned and pulled the blankets up to his shoulders, turning to the side. Maybe it was cowardly to not look now. Maybe he really was weak. Maybe he should be better.

But strength didn’t come in a day… and just because you were strong didn’t mean there wasn’t another level to reach. He’d learned that when he’d first come to live in the Grey Terminal. Being strong enough to punch a noble kid hadn’t meant that he’d been strong enough to survive on his own in a place where they didn’t serve meals on silver trays; where there wasn’t clean water that came out of porcelain jugs into crystal glasses. But he’d learned… Mostly because some dark eyed kid had dropped half a bear on his little hovel doorstep one day and told him he was tired of looking at someone so dumb and skinny.

Sabo smiled and tucked his knees up to his chest, letting out a long shaky breath.

That asshole…

He was going to miss him.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... yeah. I modified tags a bit because I realized they might be a bit misleading. 
> 
> And what happened to his being a fic in three parts...?
> 
> Ahaha ha ha... >>;
> 
> Let's hope I can keep it to seven


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